


From Fortune Teller's Eyes

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief history of a woman with fortune teller's eyes and the two men she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Fortune Teller's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorvidFeathers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFeathers/gifts).



> For our lovely and ever-talented Jehan. May your days be merry and bright.

They said that she had fortune teller’s eyes. Eyes that could enchant, entrance, and ensnare with just one look. Sometimes they were saying it to tease. Sometimes they were saying it to hurt. Sometimes they were frightened. Sometimes she thought they had reason.

She was intelligent. Far too smart for a woman, according to some, and wise beyond her years with a sharp wit to match. She had always been far more bookish than her brothers and more interested in political theory and philosophy for a woman of her standing. Far too headstrong as well, with progressive ideas just nigh of treason.

Indeed, she had been told far too many times that she had a dangerous mind to match her far-too bewitching soul, all wrapped up in a beautiful package. Her pale skin was in contrast to the chestnut brown of her hair, which she took care in plaiting and arranging until it framed her face just so. Perhaps she was a little more plump than would be considered the ideal of beauty, but the right corset and dress could make her the picture of fashion, if she could be so proud as to boast. Plus, the added flesh gave her dimples, which she was told were particularly becoming.

A true wolf in sheep’s clothing, as one former lover, a poet, had said sometime after they had parted. He had meant it spitefully, but she took it as a near-compliment and a challenge, for it showed that even the gentle, meek form of woman can be capable of awesome and terrible things. (Why, witness Charlotte Corday!)

However, her current lover didn’t seem to mind... usually. A seemingly meek little doctor, the man was sometimes as deceiving as she – a true revolutionary at heart with ideas that would make the world, or at least France, much more a place that she’d like to live. He also had an adorable face, sandy brown hair which fell in wisps far straighter than he liked (the man longed for curls, but had not been blessed with the capability) though she thought it adorable and rather suiting for his narrow face, quick to drain or flush in moments of excitement. (He also was quite adorable when he would touch the tip of his cane to his nose with a grin, but parlour tricks of the sort were another matter altogether.)

Of course, with two such people within the same house, there were bound to be times when they disagreed whether ideologically, politically, or personally. As such, their relationship was somewhat tumultuous, wavering between on and of course not quite off as they shared thoughts, bickered, made up and fell deeper in love on a regular basis. He usually was the one to apologise first, seeing the error of his ways and the wisdom of hers (the first few times with a great swallowing of pride, having to concede a political point to one of her sex, but soon after realizing that if there were more like her, the world could perhaps be twice as interesting and illuminated, a thought which delighted both). On the [very few] instances where she had realized she was in the wrong, she had tried to do right by him as best she could. Sometimes these spats were over in minutes. Sometimes, however, a break was required before one or both was ready to concede their point and resume their relationship.

The longest of their spats had lasted nearly a month. It was during that time, nearly a fortnight in, that she had the fortune to make the acquaintance of the most remarkable man.

At first she had thought him to be a distinguished man in his thirties, what with his rather thinning hair and outfit just behind the fashion of the day. Imagine her surprise, then, to discover he was still just shy of a quarter century in age and fairly recently orphaned, the money that should have been going to his name instead needed to pay off various debts and disasters.

This natural deception is what had first drawn her in. It was his personable nature, however, that charmed her. 

The man was every much as cheery and jocund as her beloved. His hearty chuckles at his own situations reminded her of the doctor’s softer peals, and she swore she could see the same sort spark and twinkle in their eyes, as if they were two halves of the same soul. 

He had asked if she would enjoy his company for the night, and she had said yes. 

She had meant it to be a one-time thing, but he had asked to see her again, and she could not find it in her heart to say no. Surely she had said it often enough to other men when this time had come and she had found her fill of pleasure, but indeed there was just something about him, and she truly did want his company once more. And then once more again, and again. Even after her doctor friend had finally come to apologise.

The man had a worse relationship than most with luck, and that struck again when he called in the middle of an intimate appointment between she and her doctor friend upon their reconciliation.

He said that he wasn’t surprised, that for some reason he always seemed to choose women with another man, and he apoligised to both for his bad luck and timing.

She thought it would be the end of it, that her newfound gentleman friend would leave and regretfully keep his distance. As it turned out, however, the two men recognized the spark in each other that she had seen. The two became fast friends, then close friends, and eventually… well, eventually she was able to consider herself lucky enough to share home, room, and bed with both. Not each, _both_.

It was the greatest thing that could have happened to any of them. This intruder turned other man turned lover was the equilibrium they had always hoped for. He was able to see both sides more often than not, and was happy to work as a go-between, bringing his cheer and charm to smooth out even the most volatile of situations. Perhaps more things broke around the house with him around, but the relationship was much more whole for it. Their lives were much more whole for it. (And, at the end of the day, what good were a few pieces of glass and china anyway?)

A woman with fortune teller’s eyes and a wild spirit. A doctor who could not control his mistress. A man who shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t exist, and frankly probably shouldn’t be alive for the amount of misfortune that had befallen him in the quarter-century he called his life. Perhaps they were an impossible couple (if indeed a couple they could be called) because there were three and they were all so much not what anyone expected individually, let alone together. Perhaps they were meant to be doomed from the start. They were too unconventional and aware all the time that it could be their downfall. And yet, she couldn’t help but think that everything would be just fine.

She did have the eyes of a fortune teller, after all, and her intuition was very rarely wrong.


End file.
